In the Lap of the Gods
by elecktrum
Summary: If you were offered a chance to learn about the future, would you take it?
1. Thunder Head

**_In the Lap of the Gods_**

By elecktrum

Disclaimer: Narnia and its characters are the property of CS Lewis, Walden Media, and Disney. I'm just borrowing them and I promise to give them back when I'm done. Until the next story hits me, of course, but that will be a while since I'm once again enjoying a bout of writer's block. The title for the story is borrowed from Queen. My thanks to Miniver for her assistance!

**Chapter One: Thunder Head **

"Would you like tea, King Peter?"

I cast a quick glance behind me and smiled. "Yes, please, Lilybell."

It was nearing the close of the day and we were gathered with some of our teachers on the wide garden balcony overlooking the Eastern Sea to watch the great thunder heads that were forming out over the ocean. The clouds were massive and showed banks of every color and hue and great bolts of lightning illuminated them from within. Though they were moving slowly towards the land it would not be a long before we would be forced to move indoors, for the sky above was thick with storm clouds and rain could come at any time. For now we relaxed as a breeze kicked up, cooling us and carrying with it the heavy scents of salt and rain.

"To the north," said Sra Sysyks, pointing with his clawed foot. "Do you see that smaller cloud the color of Cheroom's flanks, my queen? That one will be the first to make landfall."

"You're sure?" Lucy piped, leaning against the railing beside the massive lizard as he dipped his quill into the ink pot she held for him.

He flicked his tongue politely and bent over the notes he was taking. "Quite, Your Majesty."

Sra Sysyks was quite a handsome chap even for a Monitor Dragon, measuring ten feet long from his snout to the tip of his long, thick tail with heavy, clawed feet good for running or climbing or writing. He was brick red with an ash-gray belly and he wore a wide leather collar studded with gold and rubies. A scientist and scholar, he had a keen interest in the weather and was forever keeping notes on wind and rain and temperature. In the pursuit of his passion he had taken over a corner of the Cair's highest tower, the Queen's Pavilion, and filled it with an odd assortment of instruments of his own design for recording aspects of the weather. Edmund had spent many an hour there with the Monitor and his observations, and I was not unfamiliar with his research. Cheroom, Edmund's tutor, also took a great interest in all things scientific, especially anything to do with the heavens. Too large to make it up the narrow steps to the top of the tower, the elderly Centaur was dependent upon his student for regular updates on Sysyks' works. Uniting the three of them always made for interesting conversation, which was why Lucy and I stood with them along the railing watching the thunder heads out over the sea.

"The clouds speak their own language," Sysyks told Lucy, lingering on each 's.' His voice was deep and raspy with odd inflections caused by the shape of his mouth. "One needs only to learn to read their aspects to understand what they are telling us."

My littlest sister smiled at the Monitor before turning to watch the looming thunder heads again. "What are they saying now, Sysyks?"

"They're saying 'You silly lizard, come and have your tea!'" called his wife from where she was pouring for us all. Palace servants brought in deep bowls of tea for the larger Animals like Lady Avalynn and a great tankard of mead was presented to Cheroom.

I glanced back at Susan where she lounged with the ladies and instructors; she tried to stifle a giggle. Sra Lilybell was much younger than her husband, a brilliant leaf green from head to tail and clearly fond of pearls, for she wore many of them. That she did not share his passion for the sciences was evident, though the whole Cair knew how well Lilybell adored her husband. In typical Monitor fashion, she showed her affections by pestering him at every turn. Sysyks closed his eyes, shaking his head with a sigh. Twisting his long body about to look at Lilybell as she reclined in luxury amidst pillows and soft carpets, he lashed his thick tail and insisted,

"Woman! I am working!"

She ignored him completely as she passed Edmund a cup of tea. "You're always working, husband. The clouds aren't going anywhere or changing their opinions so quickly that you can't spare the time to have some refreshment."

Sysyks muttered under his breath and looked back to the skies as Edmund brought me and Lucy tea. We exchanged smiles behind the Monitor's back, for he was single-minded in the extreme. Still, he had our utmost respect, so when he murmured, "That's odd," we all looked up, even Lilybell.

"What's odd, Sra?" I asked, passing my teacup to one of the Dryad maids. Edmund turned and we crowded against the wide stone railing, trying to pinpoint what the Dragon thought was wrong with the sky.

Sysyks pointed with a heavy claw. "A break in the tempest, King Peter."

We all looked to the cloud cover above and Sysyks' anomaly was immediately evident. There was a jagged patch like a hole in the clouds leading straight to the sky beyond. We could just make out a glimpse of brilliant blue with glowing rays of sunshine pouring through. Lucy made a little "Oh!" of amazement and she gripped my hand tightly. The sunbeams were pushed swiftly along by the wind, sweeping over our balcony. For an instant the world seemed cast in warm, shimmering gold. Then the patch of light was rushed on towards the gardens beyond on the western side of Cair Paravel before the little hole in the clouds was wiped away by the wind. It happened so quickly that we didn't have a chance to react until it was gone.

For a long moment we were silent. Words were inadequate to what I was feeling. That little flash of sunlight had been wonderfully warm and inviting, almost as if the sun had embraced us. The best I could say was that I felt as if Aslan, who had so often blessed me in the past, had just blessed me anew.

Finally I blinked, exchanging a startled little smile with Lucy. She looked as stunned and delighted as I felt. On the other side of Sysyks my brother looked very thoughtful, pondering what we had just experienced. Edmund's expression matched the looks on the Centaur and the Monitor and I wondered if there was any call for concern. Turning to Susan where she sat with her ladies in the sheltered overhang behind the pillars, I was disappointed to realize she had not felt what we had. She had noticed the others, though, and their reactions; she was waiting for me to speak. I was about to address Sysyks when there came the sound of hoof beats and Oreius burst onto the balcony, skidding to a halt on the smooth marble flagstones.

"Your Majesties!"

He was breathless, panting; his flanks were shiny with sweat from his mad dash to find us. He seemed torn between alarm and excitement. Astonished into speechlessness at the Centaur's appearance, I could not find the voice to speak and it fell to Edmund to exclaim,

"General Oreius! Is something amiss?"

If the general was playing messenger then it had to be something of the utmost importance. One of the maids hastened to fetch him a drink. He swallowed the cup of water in a gulp as the first drops of rain began to dot and darken the stone beneath our feet. Still panting, Oreius bowed, and when he spoke he addressed his great-uncle more than any of us.

"Gamayun," he breathed, and his excitement and alarm were even more evident than before. "The Gamayun have returned."


	2. The Shadow of Doubt

**Chapter Two: The Shadow of Doubt**

"The Gamayun have returned!"

A hush followed Oreius' announcement as all of our teachers recognized what the general was saying. By the glance they exchanged I could tell the general's reactions more than his message concerned both of my brothers. From my seat next to Lilybell I tried to catch Peter's eye as one hurried event followed another. My older brother was bemused at all the excitement but I could tell he had no more idea of what was happening than I did. I was still reeling from that moment of seeing my siblings awash in golden light. It had been as beautiful as it had been fleeting and though the sky was growing darker and stormier, the splendor seemed to linger. A certain radiance clung to the three of them, but it may have been just the contrast they made against the gray sky. I wondered what it felt like or if indeed they felt any effect at all.

Peter finally looked at me. I felt astonishment to match his own from a few minutes before. It seemed from where I sat that for a moment I was not looking up at my brother, but rather I was looking at the man he would someday grow to be: tall and golden and exalted before all kings of Narnia save one. For the first time I realized what his title of High King truly entailed, and I saw what my younger siblings had realized long ago: Peter _was_ magnificent. Even now, at sixteen years old, as he smiled and bent to offer me his hand to stand, he had achieved his title. At fifteen he had achieved it by defeating the Ettin crown prince. At fourteen he had achieved it by going into the west to bring back a second Tree of Protection. At thirteen he had achieved it by leading Narnia's army to victory against the White Witch.

I had heard Aslan himself call Peter magnificent. Why had I never seen it for myself before?

"Who are the Gamayun?" asked Lucy. Her arms were filled by Sysyks' heavy journal, rescued from the first few drops of rain from the dark clouds above.

The old Centaur's look of awe reminded me of the first time we had met Mrs. Beaver and she had been faced with two Sons of Adam and two Daughters of Eve, the stuff of legends and myths.

"The Birds of Sorrow and Joy," breathed Cheroom. He blinked and gave himself a little shake as if he could not believe the news was real. Our assembled subjects seemed equally stunned, and I wondered if our arrival in Narnia had caused a similar reaction. "The Gamayun, Majesties, are prophetic birds. They are said to originate from Aslan's Country beyond the edge of the world. They . . . they have not been seen in Narnia for more than three centuries."

Lucy smiled up at the two Centaurs as servants and teachers hurried beneath the overhang to get away from the rain. "What do they do?"

It was Sysyks who answered. "They foretell what might be, my queen."

Peter turned, an odd expression on his face which I could not read at all. Edmund shot him a look that told me my younger brother was very intrigued.

"The Birds of Sorrow and Joy are the ones who gave Narnia the prophesy telling of your coming and the overthrow of the White Witch," Cheroom added. "They gave us hope in our darkest hour."

"And it was they who bade King Frank, ninth of that name, and Queen Dulcia to build four thrones in Cair Paravel." Oreius turned from Lucy and addressed me and Peter. "My queens, my kings, I beg you make them welcome in Narnia. According to legend they will make outrageous demands, but if you fulfill them, the Gamayun may be so moved as to tell you of things to come."

A chill darted down my spine and I did not like the eager look Lucy and Edmund exchanged. They seemed to want to plunge right into what these Gamayun had to offer without weighing the possible consequences. Peter nodded to Oreius and said, "General, they will be made most welcome. Where are they now?"

"I have taken the liberty of having them escorted to the throne room's antechamber," admitted Oreius, and Peter smiled at how well the Centaur knew him.

"Oh, let's go greet them!" exclaimed Lucy, unable to contain her enthusiasm any longer. "Edmund, come on!"

She started off before she remembered the journal in her arms. Catching herself, Lucy handed the large book off to Lilybell for safekeeping then she laid hold of Edmund's hand before he had a chance to agree or refuse and dragged him along. With only a token show of resistance he went. It suddenly seemed to me that this was how they would forever be: Lucy laughing and dancing and bubbling with energy, and Edmund quiet and serious and knowing, following behind to guard her from harm. For all their youth they were both as wise as they were full of surprises. I just . . . I just wished I could grasp why these strangers made me anxious and not excited like my siblings.

"Wait!" I called, not exactly sure why I should protest. We were safe in our palace, surrounded by our court, and Cheroom had said they were from Aslan's Country. Surely nothing bad could come from there . . . could it? "Wait for us!"

Peter chuckled, well aware that Edmund was at least as interested as Lucy over our mysterious guests.

I held back, a chill sweeping over me as Edmund and Lucy dashed ahead. I was not comfortable with these Gamayun, whatever they were, and I had a nagging feeling that somehow, by not standing with the rest of my family on the balcony when the patch of sunlight had swept over them, I had missed out on something. My steps slowed to a halt and I stood alone in the shadowy hall. The storm made things darker than usual and the sound and smell of rain filled my senses. I had the strangest notion of loss and fear, and I understood what our mother must have felt when she sent us away.

"Susan?"

I turned to Peter, to his concerned face and his bright eyes, to the comfort his steady presence gave.

"What's wrong?"

Opening my mouth, I tried to match feelings to words and finally I blurted out, "Do we really want to know what they might say? Do we really want to know what might happen?"

He didn't criticize or frown, but he looked very thoughtful as he offered me his arm and we slowly walked towards the throne room. After a few moments of considering my question he asked,

"But do we _not_ want to hear it? They might not say anything. They might help avert a war or save us from a flood or famine. And they might help us to help kings and queens far in the future."

Such broad possibilities hadn't occurred to me. My thoughts had been more immediate, more intimate. I worried first for my family. I gazed up at him, afraid to speak my mind, afraid to confess my real fear.

"What is it?" he pressed, appealing to the sensible and down-to-earth side of me. "Come on, Su, what's bothering you?"

"What if . . . Peter, what if they say you or any one of us is going to die or something terrible will happen? How do we live knowing something like that is coming? What if . . ." I couldn't go on, my voice trailing off to a whisper. Not even to Peter could I confess my deepest fear: what if we were sent away? What would happen if we stumbled out of Narnia as abruptly as we stumbled in? What would become of us? Did the Gamayun know? Could they tell us how to avoid fate or were our destinies inevitable, not things to be controlled, but to control us?

He stopped, facing me, and there was no mockery or scorn in his smile as he wrapped me in his strong embrace, trying to drive away my worries. He was growing so tall and broad. I remembered hugging him the day he saved me from Maugrim and the difference in his form was striking, but at his core the person had not changed in the least. I have been called beautiful, but I think Peter was a match for me. Perhaps more than a match. Finally he released me, holding me at arms' length.

"We already live that. Every day. Ed and I ride into battle knowing each time could be our last but we still go. You and Lucy and Narnia are more important to us than our own lives. Do you remember when we first learned about _revinim_? Do you remember what Cheroom said?"

I searched my memories, my thoughts going back to that late summer evening in the herb garden just weeks after we had been crowned. We had been looking for a way to describe 'humanity' amidst all the varied races of Narnia, and unknowingly we had stumbled across the very school of thought that was the foundation of Narnian society. The Centaur's deep voice echoed in my mind and I whispered, "Death is not a threat."

"It's a promise," my brother finished, and I knew that by his tone of voice he understood and agreed with that philosophy.

"How can you accept that so easily?" I demanded, my frustrations surfacing. I did not have his training or a warrior's tolerance of the risks taken in battle. All I had were my instincts and my common sense and right now both were offended and rising to the fore in defense of my reluctance. Would that I had Peter's acceptance or Edmund's scientific curiosity or Lucy's courage! It seemed to me all I posessed was doubt, and doubt left no room for content.

He smiled again without a hint of mockery. "Because it's true. I can't change it. I can only protect against it happening sooner than I'd like. Listen, Su, if you don't want to see these Gamayun, I'll make your excuses to them. But just think of this: three hundred years ago, a king and queen of Narnia listened to their prophecy and built four thrones that no one sat in until we arrived. If previous monarchs heard the Gamayun then I think we should listen, too."

He leaned over and kissed my cheek, then slowly stepped back, letting me make my choice. When I didn't move he just nodded and withdrew, continuing on to the throne room. I watched him go, anxiety seizing me. Was it worse to know what might be . . . or not know?

"Peter!"

He didn't just pause, but he walked all the way back to me. I looped my arm through his, glad of his warm, solid presence beside me. I felt a rush of reassurance as he covered my hand with his and I knew, with the same confidence that I knew it was Fifthday and that thunder heads brought rain and that Aslan loved us more each day, that Peter would never abandone me to my fears and he would never call them silly.

"Stay close," I ordered. I swallowed, speaking softly so that I could keep my voice from trembling. "I . . . I don't know if I want to hear what they'll tell us, but I'll go with you to meet them."

His smile warmed me and I could see that I had pleased him. He gave me a peck on the cheek and squeezed my hand reassuringly as he led the way to greet our honored guests.


	3. Sirin and Alkonost

**Chapter Three: Sirin and Alkonost**

I let go of Edmund's hand only when I was sure that he would keep following me. Hitching up my long skirts as I dashed down the stairs, I realized I had left my slippers on the balcony. I hesitated and Edmund seized the opportunity to pass me. Turning to look back, he saw my dilemma and shrugged.

"Oh, just keep your feet 'neath your dress, Lu," he said dismissively. I grinned, for Susan would_ not_ have agreed with his solution.

Just outside the throne room we were seized upon by some of my ladies in waiting lead by Avraiva, a dogwood Dryad. Armed with hairbrushes and cloths, they laid hold of me and Edmund to make us presentable, for we were rather windblown. As I stood there holding my crown and having my hair brushed, I tried to keep my bare (and a little grimy) feet out of sight. It was then that I noticed my shoes were already waiting for me, rescued from the rain and delivered by one of the servants. I avoided Avraiva's pointed look as I wriggled them back on my feet.

Edmund submitted to having his hair brushed only because protests would have caused delays. Not that our older brother and sister were hurrying along. I could hear them coming down the stairs together. Peter was talking, his head bent close to Susan. For some reason she seemed nervous, but perhaps it was the storm. She had never liked loud noises and the sound of thunder echoed through the Cair's halls. I for one felt very excited to meet anyone that came from Aslan's Country. It occurred to me that perhaps the Gamayun had spoken to Aslan lately and they might know when he would return to Narnia. We had not seen him since Peter returned from the Western Wild two years ago and I missed him terribly.

A wild, happy hope filled me at the notion. It was all I could do not to burst into the antechamber and ask them about Aslan. But . . . satisfying as that might be, it would not be polite. I sighed impatiently, wishing Peter and Susan would move a bit faster.

Finally they joined us. Neither seemed to have a hair out of place for the ladies to fuss over. Peter held his open right hand up at shoulder level and Susan laid her left hand upon it so that he could escort her in. Both of them stared at Edmund until he gave a little grumble and imitated Peter's gesture.

"Thank you, King Edmund," I cooed, just so he could roll his eyes. Some day he would admit he enjoyed all the pomp and etiquette of the court, but I doubted it would be any day soon. I laid my hand atop his and tried not to giggle as he guided me to my throne. Excited courtiers and subjects were crowding into the room behind us, their voices rising in whispers. I glanced at Susan as she sat down beside me and I was surprised to see she looked a little pale as the voices died down and we awaited our guests.

I found I was holding my breath as two great birds glided through the double doors at the far end of the room and came to a landing before us. They both bowed deeply, spreading their wings gracefully, and when they stood up to face us, I gasped.

They were lovely and completely unlike anything I had seen before. Since coming to Narnia we had met many strange beings, but the Gamayun were beyond imagining. They were large – they stood as tall as Edmund – and they were a blend of women and birds. Each one had the body of a bird and the head, neck, and shoulders of a young woman. Gold and jewels flashed around their necks and in their hair. The one closer to me had tawny brown feathers on her plump body and long, dark hair. Her face was as pretty as it was sad and it seemed as if she was on the verge of tears. The Gamayun beside her was sleeker and brighter and I recognized her form as that of a kingfisher. She had honey-gold hair done up in curls and a wide smile as if she wanted to laugh aloud. Looking at her delighted face, I wanted to laugh right along with her.

"Greetings, Your Majesties!" exclaimed the smiling Gamayun. She bowed to her dark-haired companion. "This is my sister Sirin."

"And this is my sister, Alkonost," countered the other.

"We are the Birds of Sorrow -"

"And Joy," Sirin finished in a miserable tone.

"We come to you -"

"From Aslan's Country. Greetings -"

"And long life to you all!"

They spoke in a continuous stream, not quite interrupting each other. It was as if they were so close they were finishing each other's thoughts, building upon the other's words in harmonious agreement. Their voices were like songs, one merry, the other a dirge.

Peter stood up, bowing to them. "Be welcome in Narnia, Lady Sirin and Lady Alkonost. Our councilors tell us it has been too long since this land has been blessed by your presence."

I was glad Peter was talking because it gave me more time to study our guests. Their movements were odd, more human than bird-like. Their shoulders faded to wings, but they motioned and gestured as if they had arms. Even though they did not look very much alike, it was plain that they were sisters. Peter and Edmund had little in common by way of looks, but their expressions and similar body language marked them as brothers. It was the same with our guests. Something about Alkonost's coloring jogged my memory and I knew I recognized the kingfisher from somewhere.

" . . . and our youngest sister, Queen Luc -"

"Oh!" I exclaimed, cutting off Peter's introduction. I was on my feet but in my excitement I forgot to curtsey. "I've seen you before! Both of you!" I clapped my hands as I made the connection. "In the tapestry of Aslan in Lion Chapel! There's a kingfisher right beside him! And an owl! They're you!"

Alkonost's smile grew wider still and she was pleased to be recognized. Sirin nodded in satisfaction and said, "You are a most perceptive queen."

I smiled. Remembering my manners, I dropped down in a short curtsey. "Welcome to Narnia," I said, looking up at Peter. He returned my smile and said to the Gamayun,

"If there is anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable, dear ladies, you have but to ask."

The Gamayun exchanged a look I could only call mischievous. I had seen a similar gleam often enough in Edmund's eyes to recognize it.

"Anything?" echoed Alkonost, her gray eyes bright with amusement.

Peter was not to be caught by her good-natured teasing, however. "Anything within our power to grant, Lady Alkonost," he corrected with equal good will.

An excited murmur moved through the assembled courtiers. They recognized better than we did what the Gamayun were about.

Sirin, so beautiful and sad, stepped forward. She looked up at Peter with quiet interest and finally said, "Then give unto me the weight of your world, High King Peter."

There was a tense silence in the throne room. Save for the sound of the storm outside and a sudden gust that made the lamps flicker, no one spoke or moved. Peter stood still, astonished, a bit confused, but not about to speak until he had fully considered his response, especially not with all our teachers present. I wondered at the question, for clearly this was a test, the outrageous demands that Oreius had mentioned. The weight of his world? What could that mean?

I was holding my breath. It seemed as if the whole court was, too, for the High King's reaction would set the stage for us all. Peter stepped down from the dais and stood before Sirin. I could tell he was thinking hard and fast and deep. Then my eldest brother did something that I love to think about and filled me with pride and awe: he smiled faintly, and reaching up, he lifted his golden crown from his brow and deliberately set it upon Sirin's dark hair.

A ripple of surprise ran through the crowded room and I saw Oreius smile and Sra Sysyks nod in approval. Beside me, Susan frowned, looking concerned that Peter would so easily give away his crown. Hadn't she grasped it? It wasn't his authority Sirin had asked for but his worries. Beyond my sister, I could see Edmund's sly smile and I knew he understood better than Susan what Peter had just done.

Alkonost laughed aloud and bowed along with her sister as Peter stepped away and resumed his throne. He was quite content with his answer, and faintly I heard Edmund compliment, "Well said, Peter."

His words drew Alkonost's attention and it was immediately clear that his turn was next. Edmund sat up a bit straighter, bracing himself as she said,

_"Seek you wisdom, seek you the truth  
__In justice, faith, and merciful ruth.  
What goes unhurt will never mend,  
What never starts can have no end.  
A band of silver in a band of gold  
For a king the symbol of a land unsold."_

There was silence even greater than before as everyone – myself included – puzzled this riddle over in our heads. It clearly was intended for Edmund and it sounded as if a warning of sorts had been woven into the rhyme. I only hoped he understood its meaning better than I did. I wondered what this word 'ruth' meant if it was not a woman's name, and what was this band of silver _in_ a band of gold? A ring? Edmund wore no jewelry. I stole a glance at my brother, not wanting to add to the weight of the stares upon him. I could tell he was concentrating very hard, and I was surprised when he abruptly stood. To my relief he looked quite satisfied with himself as he moved before Alkonost. He did not smile as Peter had, but he did reach up and remove his crown. Carefully he set the crown on the Gamayun's elaborately styled hair, and very softly said,

"Thank you, Lady Alkonost."

I was confounded by his actions until I remembered in a flash that his crown and mine were not silver, but a natural mixture of gold and silver: electrum. It was a very rare metal with a hoary-white look to it and unlike silver, it never tarnished. A band of silver in a band of gold. I smiled, pleased at his cleverness and hoping I could be half so quick with my answer when my turn came.

Alkonost, so pretty and gay, smiled warmly at Edmund as he resumed his seat. With a happy laugh she looked to Susan, and called out in her clear voice,

"Gentle Queen Susan, I ask you to give me one thing you will never need to prove that you are a queen!"

I looked at Susan and I saw she gripped the arms of her throne for a few tense moments. I wanted to reach over and reassure her. She glanced at Peter and he smiled confidently in return. I hope Susan saw what I did in that moment – Peter needed no crown or throne or trappings or ceremony to be a king any more than Susan needed these things to be a queen.

Susan glanced down at the beautiful jewelry she wore, delicate and light, but none of it signified her rank. Aside from her throne, the only thing she had on hand to show her status was her crown. I found myself hoping that she could part with it as graciously as our brothers had parted with theirs and that I could follow their example. I could not quite grasp her reluctance. The Gamayun were not threatening or fell and not having her crown only meant that Susan would have one less pretty thing to wear.

Relief filled me as Susan stood up. With a brave smile set on her lips she swept down the few steps and faced Alkonost. The Gamayun's smile was gentle and kind, not in the least offended by my sister's hesitation. Susan eased her crown from out of her long, braided hair, pulling it as far as her arms would reach away in order to free a few stray hairs before she nestled the delicate golden band within the circle of Edmund's heavier crown. Then she curtsied to the two sisters before resuming her seat. She looked quite thoughtful though she had not said a word.

A twinge of nervousness brought a smile to my face as I realized it was now my turn. I prayed my answer would be as simple as handing over my crown. I could do so with ease now that my siblings were all bare headed. Sirin looked to me with her darkly shadowed eyes and when she spoke her words were merry though her tone was grave.

"A sister kind and brothers bold,  
Warmth, love, music, wealth untold,  
A crown of flowers, good health, good friends,  
A reign of gold that never ends,  
A bountiful harvest, pacific sea,  
Share your greatest blessing with me."

The rhythm seemed close to what Alkonost had said, but I was surprised (and glad) that there were no ominous hints such as Edmund had received. Her riddle hit upon all of my favorite things save one, though I did not fully understand what she meant by a reign of gold. I knew immediately it was not my crown she was seeking, though I did know what my greatest blessing was. It something that was all the better for the sharing. Like my siblings before me, I stepped down to address the Gamayun. I drew close to Sirin and saw that she had gray eyes just like her sister's. Standing on my toes to reach, I kissed her fair cheek. Thunder rumbled outside and I waited for the sound to pass to speak.

"Aslan's blessing upon you now and always, Lady Sirin." I turned to her sister. "And upon you, Lady Alkonost. I don't know of any greater blessing than that," I finished.

Those mournful eyes locked with mine. Sirin gave me a look of absolute love such as Aslan had given me that morning at the Stone Table. I felt that same thrill and joy and sorrow of that moment, a memory both terrible and great as sunlight and life banished the cold night and death itself. Magic had turned sorrow to joy, but for the first time I realized how dependant one feeling was upon the other and how inseparable they really were. I looked upon Sirin and I knew that she understood everything that I was feeling, for she had felt it as well.

She bowed her dark head and softly she replied, "There is none greater, Queen Lucy."


	4. Sing Glory, Glory

**Chapter Four: Sing Glory, Glory**

"Are you ready, King Edmund?"

I cast the Thrush and her sisters my most wry smile. "As I'll ever be, lady."

"Then it is time!"

The excited song birds waited as I took a deep breath, a much longer process for me than for them. The Thrush hopped about in anticipation, her wings and tail a-flutter, then she nodded. As one we all burst into ecstatic song:

_Shining light, berry bright,  
sing glory, glory!  
Golden trees, silver seas,  
sing summer's story! _

The simple lyrics were typical of birdsong, centering on food and family and weather. Each note was short and exact and very pretty when sung in unison. This was the first day of Greenroof, and as was their tradition and rite, the song birds all congregated to sing the sun awake. The storm from the day before was just a memory and the day dawned bright and clear. The downpour had scrubbed Narnia clean in time to celebrate the start of a new month and a new season.

_Feather flown, hatchlings grown,  
sing glory, glory!  
Morning flight, starry night,  
sing nature's story! _

The Birds had invited me to join them days before. I think the Thrush wanted to see which of us could hit a higher note and remain on key. Until my voice decided to change (soon, I hoped, so I could get this business of 'growing in stance and strength' over with) I was fairly certain I had her beaten. We were gathered in one of the formal gardens on the south side of the Cair. The trees were thick with Birds of every variety, all of us facing the east as our voices joined together with the Dryads to welcome the dawn. It was a merry start for my day and, indeed, the whole summer.

_Over Sea and next to me, _  
_Sing glory, glory!_  
_Father, Son, Timeless Ones, _  
_Sing heaven's story! _

The first rays of light illuminated the very edge of the Eastern Sea, turning the waters a fiery yellow-orange. The Birds all sang around me - Sparrows, Finches, Larks, Jays, Nightingales, Robins, piercing Whippoorwills, raspy Nuthatches, and dozens of others. I could hold notes where they could not and they delighted in creating a sound around my voice that was at once riotous and melodic.

_Lion's Mane, sun and rain,  
sing glory, glory!  
Weep no more, Thrones of Four,  
sing Aslan's glory! _

Another voice joined us as we reached the final stanza, sounding sweet and sincere as we celebrated Narnia's creator. I turned, and I was absolutely astonished to see Sirin standing on the edge of the garden. I smiled in greeting as we finished the song together. The Birds and Dryads thrilled to do the Gamayun honor and all of them tried to talk to her at once. I held back to give my subjects a chance to greet her. To my amusement she still wore Peter's crown. I wondered if he missed its weight and if Alkonost still wore mine.

"Good morn, Lady Sirin," I said with a bow when the Birds finally released her.

"It is a very good morn indeed, King Edmund," she said, returning my bow with a flourish of wings.

"I have to go down to the training grounds. General Oreius is expecting me. Will you walk with me?"

"Gladly."

I picked up my bundle of padded clothing to wear under my armor and set my pace to match her small steps.

"Your voice matches this morning," she said, "beautiful and clear."

"Thank you," I said, feeling heat rise to my cheeks as I blushed. "That was a mighty storm last night."

"The blame for that lies with me," she confessed, blinking back tears. "Ever do I travel in the wake of a storm."

"There was a patch of light . . ."

Sirin nodded her dark head. "That was my sister breaking through the tempest to allow us both to land."

"It was like being blessed," I admitted softly

"Yes," she agreed. "Love always is."

My steps slowed, finally stopping, and I turned to face her. She was very pretty; pale as if she'd been weeping, infinitely sad. I felt a pang in my chest at the sight of her misery, and I spoke before I thought. "I would like to see you smile, Lady."

She looked up at me with red-rimmed eyes, curious and touched by my statement. "In that vein then, good king, would you wish to see my sister weep?"

I hesitated, uncertain, realizing that perhaps my good intentions were out of order. "N-no, Lady," I finally managed. "I just . . . I just didn't want all you feel to be sorrow."

Her expression was soft. "I feel far more than sorrow, King Edmund. Tell me, would you rather any title than 'The Just'?"

I didn't even have to think of a reply. "Nay. It defines what I am and what I want to be. It was a gift from Aslan."

"And gifts from the Emperor's Son are neither lightly given nor without a price. And so it is with me, for I have known joy greater than words can express or ears can hear or eyes can behold. Mine has been joy so abounding as to fill an ocean to overflowing and make the stars seem dark and cold by comparison. I have known joy, King Edmund, but I have known more sorrow. It defines me and what I am. It is my gift from Aslan."

"Sorrow as a gift?"

"My joy was my true love. My sorrow was his needless, empty death. And yet there is no great sorrow without some hint of joy 'neath the surface, nor yet is there boundless joy without a shade of sorrow attached to it." She looked out across the beautiful gardens, the bountiful orchards, and the glistening sea. "This day, your song, these flowers – they fill the world with joy. There is sorrow, too, knowing that each of these things must end, and with them, joy. But the sun will rise tomorrow, you can sing again, and the flowers will bloom all season long."

"I take it back, Lady Sirin. I . . . I'm sorry for pressing you. That was not polite of me."

"Do not be, for in your sorrow you have given me joy. Only one other person in all the world, throughout all of time, has asked me to smile for them since I became the Bird of Sorrow."

I was taken aback. "Really?"

She nodded and we resumed walking. "My sister. We are very close, Alkonost and I. And see? You smile for _me_. Joy, where there was sorrow."

"Thank you. I think I understand you a little better, Lady Sirin."

"You are only setting out on your path to wisdom, young king, but you have opened your heart and mind to the world around you. I tell you this freely: the wisdom you gather about you will help to shield Narnia from those that would do her harm. Seek it everywhere and in everyone. Justice, Edmund, is yours. Tempered with mercy and wisdom, you will make what is good better still. At times you may think the price will be more than you can bear, but in the end no price is too great."

There didn't seem to be anything I could say that would adequately match the impact of her words upon me. The silence that fell between us was comfortable as I pondered what she had said. It was a great deal to think about and I wondered if this was the prophesy Oreius said might be mine.

Just before we reached the training grounds Sirin spoke again. Her voice was grave, but for once it lacked that underlying, all-consuming grief. "Far from now, over time and space and distance, we shall meet again, King Edmund. On that day, you will see me smile. And on that day I will no longer be the Bird of Sorrow, because there will be no more sorrow."


	5. The Lion and the Fox

**Chapter Five: The Lion and the Fox**

The heavy sword glanced off my shield - a wasted blow from my opponent's perspective, but a gift from mine. I felt a smile spread across my face, producing a look of dismay as Jaer Peridanson realized he was about to get thrashed.

And thrash him I did, though not so soundly that he couldn't pay me back in kind. Jaer was growing to be a formidable swordsman, though like Edmund he itched to abandon his shield and fight with two swords. He had a ways to go before he reached my brother's skill level - Cair Paravel's sword masters refused to allow any of their students to take up two swords before we were adept with one.

I used my shield and a good push to send Jaer staggering back a few steps right into his younger brother, Jaerin, fouling two foes with one blow. I was about to follow through when Oreius abruptly called,

"Hold!"

We ceased immediately, turning to face him, and to my surprise Edmund and Sirin stood beside the Centaur. Edmund was not suited up for practice, I noticed immediately. Oreius had excused him to sing in the dawn but he had not excused Edmund from training. The Gamayun still wore my crown and I vaguely wondered if she intended to keep it. I could not complain if she did - I _had_ given it to her, after all.

"Sir Peter," barked Oreius, and I hurried over. "The Lady of Sorrow begs your company. You and your brother are excused for the now."

I heard a little sigh of "Ohhh!" escape Jaerin's lips as he took in his first sight of the Gamayun. I bowed to Oreius for the dismissal, then to Sirin in greeting.

I was a little breathless from the workout. "Good morn, Lady."

"And to you, High King," she said sadly. "May I ask you and your brother to walk with me?"

"The honor is ours," I replied sincerely, turning over my shield and helmet to a Dwarf armorer. The ranks of Centaur archers were filing in through the archway, back from their practice. As they crowded into the courtyard, they slowed, anxious for a look at a Gamayun. Sirin, rather than moving to leave, looked up at Oreius.

"You are General Sir Oreius Heydensrun, son of Manthwell, son of Romit, descended from Hrothbard, first of your kind to be named by Aslan."

"I am, Lady Sirin," he replied, surprised that she should know his ancestry. "From my mother's side."

"Know, Sir, that the name of Heydensrun will endure until the end of days. The chain shall be unbroken."

Oreius could not have been more astonished. For a moment he was speechless and finally he stammered, "I am not wed, Lady."

"Not yet," was Sirin's quick reply.

Silence. There was a palpable shift of energy in the courtyard as Oreius suddenly became the center of attention. The archers froze. Most of them were Centaurs. Most of them were female. All of them were listening. I looked up to see almost every eye in the place focused on the general at this promise of marriage and children. In two words Oreius had gone from being a knight and lofty commander of armies to husband material and he was completely unsettled by the change and the hungry looks he was receiving from every quarter.

Behind me, Jaerin fought to suppress a laugh, his shoulders shaking with the effort of trying to maintain his self-control. He ducked his head, a small sound escaping him and setting off his brother. Oreius glared, but for once that terrible look was ineffective.

Sirin regarded Peridan's sons for a long moment. Jaerin raised his head and was instantly silenced when he found himself the focal point of the Gamayun's attention.

"Some day, Jaerin Peridanson, you will have as many sons as you can name . . . and as you deserve."

His jaw dropped and I almost laughed aloud at his expression. Jaer did laugh, but when Sirin faced him he sobered instantly.

"And you, eldest son of Sir Peridan. You will marry the most beautiful woman in the world."

With those final words she turned to go, leaving something akin to silent mayhem in her wake as the archers ate up Oreius with their eyes and my friends and comrades realized their fate (or doom) was to be family men.

"What about Rien?" squeaked Jaerin, unwilling to suffer alone.

Sirin looked back, amusement in her gray eyes. "She will laugh when she hears."

We didn't walk far, only to the footbridge spanning the little stream behind the training grounds. It was a pleasant setting, especially since the full heat of the day was a few hours off. We sat down on the bridge and I realized why she chose this spot – there were no trees nearby and we could not be overheard if we kept out voices low. We sat down on the damp boards and for a little while we listened to the sound of water moving beneath us, enjoying the cool of the morning.

Then Sirin stirred. "Aslan himself gave me and Alkonost leave to come to Narnia at will if we so chose. Know, good kings, that we love this land our Lord and Master made as much as you, as much as He. We have done what we can for it both at the time of our visit and in the time yet unrealized. I ask you to choose now, King Peter, King Edmund, if you wish to hear of things that may be. You do not have to accept what I offer and there is no shame or insult if you refuse. The choice is yours."

I took the opening to voice a question that had been plaguing me since last night. "Are you and Alkonost harbingers of sorrow and joy?"

She touched me with the tip of her wing and I was surprised to feel warmth, as if she brushed my hand with fingers and not feathers. "Nay, King Peter. Joy and sorrow are parts of life. We are prophets. We see patterns and paths and the weave in the tapestry of history. We see what _has_ happened, what _is_ happening, and what _may_ happen. There are countless possibilities of what may happen next, but considering the past, and considering you and the other monarchs of Narnia, we are able to say what is most likely to come to pass."

I nodded in satisfaction and she fixed her gray eyes on Edmund. "Edmund Randall, named for your mother's father. You are the first king, the second son, the third child. Choose now, choose wisely. Will you hear me?"

There was a tension in Edmund's shoulders and stance and for the first time he spoke. "I will, Lady Sirin."

She bowed her head to him in, pleased by his brave response.

"Peter Michael George, named for saints and angels and kings. You are the first child, the second king, the first son. Choose now, choose wisely. Will you hear me?"

I nodded. "Gladly will I hear you, Lady."

Without wasting a moment the Gamayun plunged into her prophesies. "You gave me your crown and the weight of your world. When the time comes many ages hence and you are called upon to do the same again, will you give up your crown with equal grace?"

I felt a tightening in my chest, uncertain of what she could mean and genuinely afraid to know. Nonetheless, I took a deep breath to still my pounding heart and said, "I hope that I will, provided Aslan wills it and the recipient be worthy."

"Well said, High King. You need not fear on that account." She tilted her head, looking to Edmund. "You gave my sister your crown as a symbol of a land unsold. When the time comes and you are called upon to do the same again, will you give up your crown with equal resolve?"

I felt my heart fail and Edmund paled a little beneath his tan. A land unsold. Did that mean that some day he would again be put in a position to betray Narnia? By his reaction, I knew Edmund had the same thought.

No. Never. I would not allow it. I banished the idea from my head, quashed it. There were untold nuances to Sirin's words, to what _may_ be.

"I pray that I will," whispered Edmund. "If Aslan wills it and the cause be worthy."

"Just King, there is none worthier," said she as tears slid down her fair cheeks. I wondered if she spoke of Edmund or this unknown cause or both, and for whom she wept.

"Heed me well. You sit before me the lion," and she swept her wing at me in a grand gesture, "and you are the fox." Edmund was graced with a similar gesture. "The lion is fearless and bold, darting amongst his enemies and scattering them, but he can be caught in snares. The fox, canny and wise, will not get caught in snares, but he cannot defend himself against wolves. And so you, lion and fox, must work together, on the surface and below it, to defend your brother against traps and enemies."

I glanced at Edmund and he at me, and we exchanged a knowing look. She sounded exactly like Oreius and his constant litany that we had to fight back to back and side to side. I could not imagine _not_ protecting him at every turn and I knew that in his caustic way, he felt exactly the same about me.

"Magnificent King, you are already adept at planting apple trees. You would do well to plant more every year. A day will dawn when you will be glad for your orchards."

I blinked. This was not quite what I had expected to hear. "Uh," I heard myself say. I tried to recover by stammering, "Of-of course, Lady."

"And bless the Badgers."

"Badgers," I echoed.

"They are beasts that do not change. What is more, they hold on and they remember."

I thought of my own words to Susan the night before, the Four Thrones, of future kings, and my answer came easier and more assured. "They will be blessed, Lady Sirin."

Her voice grew graver, her misery deeper. "You are the High King, eldest and strongest of the Four. Aslan has set you to be the Guardian of the North, for it is against the north that you must guard. You, both as Peter Pevensie and as Narnia, have enemies there that have not, will not ever forget what you have wrought in their land. Those who have wronged you will try to wrong you again. Though your foes be but shadows of their former selves, these shadows will not fade but merge with other enemies. Some are known to you. Some are unknown. Guard well the fox against the unknown."

I felt the chill of winter run down my spine at this oblique mention of the Ettins. Lion's mercy, hadn't I had dealings enough with those wicked brutes? Guard the fox? Would they threaten Edmund?

My brother gripped my arm through the heavy mail I still wore, grounding and balancing and reassuring me. I covered his hand with mine, grateful for the touch. I stared at Sirin, and her eyes were full of sympathy and understanding. Then she looked to Edmund.

"Just King, Guardian of the West, I lay before you three things you must do so that you may prosper and through you, Narnia. Firstly, you must master the game of chess."

Edmund's jaw dropped in surprise and I must confess I had a similar reaction. It came as something of a relief after hearing about such dark tidings.

"Chess?" he squeaked. "How will that make Narnia prosper?"

Sirin ignored the question completely. "You must play every day and at every chance even if you lose every single game. Do so, and in the end you will be triumphant."

He had no words with which to reply. He already lost almost every game he played. We both did.

"Secondly, you must become a judge."

"I intend to," Edmund managed, finding his voice.

"Narnia will need your wisdom. Think not just of the day when you preside over the courts, but think of the days to come." She took a deep breath. "Thirdly, most importantly my king, beware the Horror."

I gripped his hand tightly, and he crushed my fingers despite my heavy gloves. I moved a little closer to him.

"What does that mean?" whispered Edmund.

But she spoke to me, not Edmund. "When you turn an old sin into a virtue, cling fast to your motto."

_"Constant faith,"_ I breathed, barely voicing the motto of the Order of the Lion.

She bowed her head, closing her eyes against her tears as she addressed Edmund again.

"And when your curse becomes your brother's salvation, do you cling fast to your motto as well."

He spoke so softly I could scarce hear him say, _"Sacrifice."_

"Guard well the lion, O fox. You must stand together always. There will be far more joy than sorrow in your reign, good kings, but those few moments of sorrow will be acute and piercing. Freedom and happiness come only at a price. Pay the price, good kings, and Narnia will be content."

I closed my eyes, holding tight to my brother's hand and whispering a prayer to Aslan that the price would not be more dear than we could pay.


	6. The Garden Has Many Paths

**Chapter Six: The Garden Has Many Paths**

The Hummingbird came to a landing on my extended finger, his tiny feet gripping tight. He was brilliant in his summer plumage and on my hand he looked like an oversized emerald ring. I drew him close to hear his message.

"Your brothers have sent word, Queen Susan, that they will be late to breakfast. I've already alerted the cooks."

"Thank you, Morvine," I replied, not at all surprised by this news. It was not unusual for Oreius to extend their training, though he rarely did it for more than a few minutes. It meant that either one of them had gotten hurt or, more commonly, whatever it was they were learning had them too interested to eat. I knew they'd show up within the hour, ravenous and excited and they'd talk through the whole meal.

Dragging a brush though my hair a few more times, one of my ladies twisted the thick tresses into a neat bun and fastened it all into place with a jeweled clasp before I was released from their attentions. It felt odd not to have my crown resting atop my head, as if a part of me was missing. I tried not to dwell on its absence. I had no idea if Alkonost intended to keep the crown, and what I would do if she did. How had Peter and Edmund so casually handed over their crowns? Without their examples I knew I would not have managed to do the same, but then, they were bred for bravery and I . . . I was Gentle.

"I'll go bring word to my sister, Morvine. If we get back soon I think perhaps we'll have some tea while we wait for the kings," I added to my ladies as they tidied up the dressing table.

"Queen Lucy, Your Majesty, is with Lady Rien and the weavers," chirped Morvine. He bowed and fluttered his wings before zooming off again and I rose.

"I'll be off to fetch Lucy."

"Majesty, shall we accompany you?" asked Lilybell, lingering on each 's.'

"Thank you, but I'll be fine. It's not that far and I have a few things I'd like to think about on my own."

Satisfied, my ladies all bowed and curtsied and I smiled as I left them. I walked slowly through the halls, bidding good morn to everyone I met as Cair Paravel gradually roused and got ready for another summer's day. We had no pressing business and no ambassadors were expected and save for the Gamayun we had no visitors at the moment.

At the Great Hall I decided to walk outside and through the gardens to go find Lucy. The weavers had their work shops on the southern side of the palace by the herb gardens. Lucy and Rien, Sir Peridan's young daughter, spent whatever time they could with the weavers learning to embroider and sew. I had long ago concluded that I was quite hopeless at sewing - even Peter was better at it than I was. I had a small embroidered satchel started to hold archery supplies to replace the one I'd given to Peter, and it was a joke among us that I'd be too old to draw a bow by the time I finished it.

The day was clear, scrubbed clean by yesterday's storm, and I inhaled deeply, smelling salt air and jasmine and roses. For a moment I wondered at my anxiety of meeting the Gamayun. Was it fear or caution that spurred me on so?

I looked up as Perchine, a sweet little Peahen, herded her small flock of children up the path. Eight piping little voices bid me good morn before the baby birds scattered every which way around me. Perchine paused to bow. Her husband, a magnificent Peacock named Artis, was part of the palace guard and Perchine herself worked with the gardeners to keep the flower beds free of pests.

"A good morn, Queen Susan," she clucked.

"It is indeed, Perchine."

She gestured with one wing. "The Lady of Joy awaits you up ahead. Should you like me to go with you to meet her?"

Word of my unease must have spread. I smiled at the Peahen's concern and replied, "Nay, my friend. I'll be glad to see her."

That was not exactly the truth, but I wanted to put a brave face on the matter and I walked on towards the stone pergola along the path. The skeletal structure was engulfed with ancient grape vines, the newly-forming fruits still pale and dusty-looking against the dark leaves. Alkonost stood in the leafy shelter, her eyes as bright as the dew on the nearby flowers, and I wondered if she and her sister had spent the night here, for they had refused rooms within the palace. Spotting me, she bowed low, spreading her blue-gray wings wide. She still wore my crown nestled within Edmund's; the golden flowers and leaves were almost invisible against her honey-colored hair.

"A very good morn to you, Lady Alkonost."

"And to you, Gentle Queen. I hoped that I would see you so early. May I walk with you?"

"Please do," I invited, slowing my steps to match hers. We moved into the sunlight and beside me, Alkonost sighed in contentment, closing her eyes as she let the sun warm her.

"Do you fear me?" she asked abruptly.

I struggled with my next words. "Not you, Lady, so much as what you might say."

"What I might say or what I might not say?"

"Both," I admitted softly.

"You need not listen."

"I . . . I think not knowing would be worse."

She nodded her head in understanding and agreement. "Would it help to know that despite my words there is nothing about the future that you cannot change? I say what might be, not what will be. No one, not even Aslan himself, can say what _will_ be."

"But the prophesy . . . the one that foretold our arrival . . ."

"Narnia chose to heed our words in that case. They did not heed our warnings about growing complacent, thus allowing the White Witch to impose a hundred years worth of winter."

"But . . ."

"This garden has many paths, does it not?"

I blinked, surprised by the shift in the subject, and I stammered, "Y-yes, it does."

"If I set you upon this path," and she pointed down a winding trail leading between the boxwood hedges, "or upon that one up ahead, could each one lead you back to Cair Paravel?"

"Yes."

"Could they lead to your sister?"

"Eventually, though that way," I indicated the mossy boxwood path, "would be very long."

"So your choice of path will determine the length of your journey, but your desire chooses your destination. Is that not so?"

I understood now. "Yes."

"So it is with prophesies. We Gamayun merely show the path. The rest is up to you, the listener." She drew a deep breath just as I had done a little while ago, tilting her head back to take in the clear blue sky. "Storms always follow my sister," she explained. "Sometimes Aslan sends us to lands where there are droughts, just to water the earth."

"Why do storms follow Sirin?" I wondered.

She looked at me, and I was surprised to see a hint of sadness in her eyes. "Because she weeps endlessly. It has been said that when she weeps enough to fill an ocean, then will she find relief from sorrow."

"Why is she so sad?"

"For the same reason I am joyful. There is always sorrow in joy, and joy in sorrow. We temper and balance and complement each other. She was once in love. It was a wild, deep, happy love. And then . . . he died. Uselessly, needlessly, he was killed, and Sirin was consumed by sorrow. So I became filled with joy, trying endlessly and in every way I can to restore her spirits, to give her comfort and hope."

Gazing at this beautiful creature, a profound thought struck me. "That . . . that cannot be as simple a task as it sounds, Lady Alkonost."

She turned to me with a merry smile on her red lips. "No easier or simpler than being gentle, good my queen."

I stopped, unable to look away from those gray eyes.

"At first," Alkonost said, "I had to bend every effort and will to fulfill this title of the Bird of Joy. It took all my strength until it became my strength. For my sister the role of sorrow came naturally, so engulfed in grief was she. It seems strange to have to struggle with happiness, but gradually, by always looking for delight, it became more than just a role or a title, but my very nature."

"So you're saying that by doing joyous things . . . you became joyful."

She laughed. The sound was so genuine that I had to smile.

"Indeed! There are great rewards to be gained by doing and being and becoming. Joy itself is its own reward."

"Is sorrow, then, too?"

"Yes! My sister knows that when all her sorrow is spent, what is left will be joy."

"And when all your joy is spent, Lady Alkonost? What then?"

"When my joy is spent Aslan will replace it by something infinitely greater."

Alkonost reached for me with her long wings, and her gray feathers touched my face as delicately as if she had fingers.

"Let your gentleness be your strength. Aslan has blessed you with this title of Queen Susan the Gentle. Do not think that this makes you weak or less daring than your brothers and sisters. Oft times it takes greater strength and will to wait and see than to act. Embrace this gentleness within yourself and you will quietly show the world the extent of your might."

I stared at her, feeling the prick of tears in my eyes. How could I do this?

"I . . ."

"You doubt yourself?" asked Alkonost, though it seemed more a statement.

I nodded, ducking my head. "When . . . when we learned that you and your sisters are prophets, my brothers and sisters immediately thought of how they might help Narnia."

"And you did not," she finished after a few moments of silence.

"No," I admitted. "I thought of them."

Her expression softened. "And what is so wrong with that, Susan? You were a sister long before you were a queen."

"But . . . in the throne room . . . what if we had answered wrong?"

Slowly Alkonost smiled, a look of pure pleasure and delight without a hint of mockery as she said, "Gentle Queen, the answer given was the right one for each of you. For such questions, there are no wrong answers."

At first I was too startled to reply, and then I felt myself slowly smile back at her as I realized I hadn't needed to relinquish my crown to her after all. Suddenly I was glad that I had followed the example set by my brothers. There was a sense of bravery and satisfaction that accompanied the gesture. I was not loud and dashing like they were, but being gentle did not mean that I was shy or afraid to stand in defense of what I held dear. Being quiet was not being silent, and though I may be placid in my nature and my manner that did not mean that I would ever yield.

I looked down to see that Alkonost was watching me intently as I came to realize all she had been saying. I drew myself up straighter, no longer missing the weight of my crown. I had not needed it yesterday; I did not need it now to know who and what I was. I was Queen Susan, and I could be as strong as I was gentle.


	7. South By East

**Chapter Seven: South By East**

_A/N: Rien and her mother Saera have been borrowed from Thalion King's Daughter and her lovely story_ Only Children. _My thanks, too, to Miniver for her quick response and superior spelling ability._

"Do you see, Your Majesty, how the yellow twisted with the brown gives us this dark gold for the sword?"

I lifted the fine, soft thread in order to see it better. The weaver was right – the colors combined were the exact color of the first Shafelm's grip. I stood with Rien at the edge of the frame holding the nearly complete tapestry of Edmund. Six ladies had been laboring on the hanging for over a year. The finished work would be larger than I had imagined – the figure of my brother was almost life-sized and the border was wide and ornate.

It was on this border that Rien and I now worked, both of us learning to embroider and sew from the very willing ranks of weavers and tailors employed in Cair Paravel. Most of them were Dryads, for they understood fibers very well, but there were also some Goats and Sheep and a few long-haired Rabbits whose fur was spun into the most wonderfully soft wool.

The Dryad who guided our tiny stitches had very smooth, dry hands like polished wood and she was a wonder at untangling knots. She was also very patient if we made any mistakes and she left a few of our errors in place because they weren't very noticeable and she said it gave the work more character. Beside me, Rien was concentrating so hard that the tip of her tongue showed between her lips. I didn't laugh because according to Susan, I pucker up my lips like a fish when I'm intent on a project.

"Good morn, Your Majesty!"

We all looked up as one of the weavers, a pretty, black-and white Rabbit named Imbrie, called out the greeting to warn everyone that one of their monarchs had arrived. I could hear Susan's soft reply and a moment later she entered the workshop accompanied by Alkonost. I was surprised to see Susan so relaxed in the Gamayun's company, but I was very pleased that she had put her anxiety aside.

"Oh!" exclaimed Rien, her eyes wide as she stared. All the weavers were equally excited to see the Gamayun. There was much chatter and welcoming and Rien, staying fast to my side, leaned over and whispered, "She's very pretty, isn't she?"

"I think so," I replied. "Would you like to meet her?"

I took the breathless little sound she made as agreement, and taking her hand I lead Rien to the other side of the frame holding the tapestry. Alkonost was talking to the Dryad in charge, exclaiming over the cartoons that had been painted for the tapestries and hung on the wall, waiting to be rendered in twists of thread. The Gamayun's smile broadened as I approached. She bowed to me and looked fondly upon us all the while.

Rien did not release my hand, but held on tighter as I said, "Lady Alkonost, I'd like you to meet my friend, Rien. She and her family came here from Archenland."

Alkonost, already happy, seemed doubly delighted at meeting someone new. She gazed at Rien closely and after a moment she said, "Sweet daughter of Saera, your mother adores you and has taught you well. Learn well her industry and manners and the joy life brings you will someday rival my own. Blessed are you, Lady Rien, blessed and beloved."

All the weavers were grinning with silent pleasure as Rien, her mouth a perfect 'o' of astonishment, was rendered speechless. After a long moment she managed to shut her mouth and she dropped down in a quick curtsey, a slow smile lighting her face. I was biting my lip to keep from shouting out my pleasure at the prediction that Rien's future would be bright. Finally gathering up her courage, Rien softly asked,

"Then do you know my mother, Lady?"

"I don't need to." Alkonost's expression softened and there was a hint of sadness in her eyes as she touched Rien with her feathers. "I know her daughter."

She then looked up at Susan. "May I beg the company of queens for a spell?"

"Oh, yes!" I exclaimed, thinking I finally had an opportunity to ask about Aslan. I covered my mouth hastily with my hand as the ladies stifled their laughs, then tried to regain some dignity as I corrected, "Of course, Lady Alkonost."

Even Susan laughed merrily as she guided me out the door. I waved my goodbyes to the weavers and Rien and rushed ahead. The gardens were lovely even though last night's storm had knocked down some leaves and branches. After a short stroll through the cutting garden we took seats in a sunny spot alongside one of the streams that wandered through the grounds. I sat closely beside my sister, perhaps even crowding her a little, but she had been nervous yesterday when the Gamayun arrived and I hoped I could offer some reassurance. Susan made no protest, and in fact she edged a little closer to me.

"Lady," I said as soon as we were comfortable, "can you give us any word on Aslan? When will we see him again? Do you know when he'll come back to Narnia? Will it be soon?" I hadn't intended to bombard her with questions, but it all came out in a rush.

Alkonost laughed. "Queen Lucy, there is no saying when Aslan will return here. He is not a tame Lion, not by any means. You would have a better chance of holding the wind in your hands than guessing when he will return. That said, though, Aslan has charged me to give each of you a gift."

"More?" I cried, thinking of all the things he'd already given us from Edmund's life to a kingdom to run.

Her eyes glittered bright and gray as she replied, "More. Aslan's gift is this: that once in your life you may call upon him and no matter what, no matter where or when, he will come. In all the years I have known and served the Lion, my queens, I have never before known him to bestow such a gift."

Susan was quiet, taking this in, but my curiosity was sparked. "Have you known Aslan very long?"

Alkonost's expression was distant and she smiled as if at some fond memory. "I have known him . . . even longer than Narnia has."

"You must be very ol - wise," I finished awkwardly, then stopped before my impulsive tongue got me into more trouble. I had almost called her old, which she may be though she did not look it, but not even in Narnia did one question a lady's age.

As if I had told a marvelously funny joke, Alkonost threw back her head and her laughter rang through the garden. "Yes, Lucy, I am very old and very wise, though I might not look either part! I don't always look like this, Dearheart, nor does Sirin. This is just the guise I wear in Narnia."

"What do you really look like?"

"Some day," she said softly, her voice like a prayer, "when you are both older and wiser, you'll find out."

It was my turn to fall silent and after a moment Susan asked, "Will Peter and Edmund be given the same gift?"

"No," answered the Bird of Joy. "It is for you and your sister only, for you will need Aslan's presence more than they."

"How will we call him, then?" wondered Susan.

Alkonost looked at her squarely, serious for once, though her voice was light. "Daughter of Eve, the Lion who called this world into being knows the deepest reaches of your heart. He knows your happiness and fear and pain. He understands even when you yourself cannot understand, and above all else He loves you now and forever. When the moment comes for you to call upon him, you will know it and so will He."

We were silent, awed by such a gift. I wondered how it was that Susan and I might need Aslan more than our brothers - they managed to land in far more trouble than we did.

"Now my queens, will you list while I speak of what may be? There is no affront should you refuse."

"How do you know the future?" I asked.

"I don't," replied Alkonost. "My sister and I only see what may be, based on what has been and what is. And so I ask you, Susan Eleanor, named for your mother and your mother's mother. You are the second child, the first daughter, and the second queen. Choose with your heart, O Mistress of the South. Will you hear me?"

Susan answered more quickly than I expected. "I will."

"And you, Lucy May Rosalie, named for light and spring and the sweetest of flowers. You are the fourth child, the second daughter, and the first queen. Choose with all your spirit, dear Mistress of the East. Will you hear me?"

I nodded eagerly, saying, "Yes!"

Alkonost smiled. "Then, Daughter, pursue music as you have done. Narnia and your family will need the comfort of your song in this age and in times to follow."

"Gladly, Lady Alkonost!" I said, returning her smile.

"I warn you, Queen Lucy, do not long for that which you already possess. You are the day, warm and golden. Your sister is the night, dark and brilliant. Each is what it is, and each is glorious. Be content in yourself. Always believe your eyes and your heart, for they will never lie, but remember that there are many ways to see a thing." She reached over and touched my hand with her warm feathers, locking eyes with me. "Be patient with your cousin, and let your faith sustain the world."

There was so much unsaid in that moment, I realized. It was like a puzzle, like the riddle Sirin had posed to me. I bit my lip, pondering what she had told me. I looked to Susan, wondering if she was as confounded as I was. I was both glad and disappointed to see that the Gamayun's words were no clearer to her than to me. Alkonost spoke on, shifting her attention to Susan.

"Gentle Queen, an hour ago I would have said to you _'You must overcome your fear of knowing or your fears will overcome you.' _But the hour has passed and you have chosen well and wisely. A warning though, Susan, Daughter of Eve: Do not become exiled from yourself, from what you are and what you _always_ will be. Even if you choose the boxwood path to reach what you desire it will still bring you home."

I didn't understand her meaning, though Susan seemed to. My sister nodded, reaching out to take my hand in hers. Though Alkonost's voice was light and merry, her words struck me the same way as her riddle to Edmund: ominous. It seemed odd that anyone so joyous could be sinister, but there was a dark air about her words. Then again, my mind reasoned, she was a prophet, and only here to say what might happen. Already Susan had wrought some change, so why couldn't we all?

The thought comforted me greatly and I squeezed Susan's fingers. I would tell her my thoughts later.

The shadow that had clouded my thinking left as swiftly as it came and Alkonost once again seemed all that was happy and bright. She looked at me, her eyes shining with ageless wisdom and amusement, and I wondered if she knew what had passed through my mind.

"Tread lightly in the sand and sun, lest you be burned. And finally . . . "

We leaned forward to catch this last bit of her prophesy as Alkonost drew closer.

"Always carry your horn when you go a'hunting."

That was all. We stared at her speechlessly, and slowly she smiled at our astonished expressions. We must have looked quite silly. Susan gave a nervous little laugh, and I found myself joining her. Alkonost's sweet laughter rang out and she embraced us with her blue-gray wings. It almost felt like being close to Aslan. She kissed Susan's cheek, then kissed mine, drawing us nearer still to whisper in our ears:

"Guard well your brothers, my queens. They will need your faith and love, just as you will need their wisdom and might. Stand by them, but also stand behind them in peace or war."

Vowed Susan, "We will, Lady Alkonost."

"Always," I finished.


	8. In the Lap of the Gods

**Chapter Eight: In the Lap of the Gods**

_Beware the Horror._

What did that mean? I looked to my companion and I knew without speaking that I would get no answers from her. Sirin sat beside me in comfortable silence as we waited for Peter to return from the armory. I turned her words over in my mind. Learn chess. Become a judge.

_Beware the Horror._

Forewarned was forearmed. I would not be caught unawares, but I could not imagine what _chess_ would have to do with anything.

_Guard well the lion, O fox._

I would. Oh, how I would. I would keep him safe from his enemies and those that would use him and even from himself if I had to. And I would keep him safe from the Horror. Whatever that might be, it would _not_ claim my brother.

The lion in question came jogging back to our spot on the bridge. Peter looked as if he'd dunked his head in a water trough and he probably had, given that the heat of the day was rising. His hair and clothes would be dry in a matter of minutes, but I wondered if he'd done it as much for relief as for a distraction from the thoughts that must have been running through his head. In that sense we were much alike - we both thought too much, and Sirin had given us enough to keep us busy for ages to come.

"Breakfast?" he suggested to Sirin as soon as he stood on the bridge. It was a typical Peter Pevensie question. We two were constantly hungry and it was well past the time we normally ate. As soon as he mentioned food I was starving where I stood.

"I will accompany you," Sirin announced, then cast a look at the skies. "For a while, at least."

I saw clouds gathering on the horizon and wondered if I should take them as an omen. I rejected the idea. If I wasn't careful I'd start seeing signs of doom in every aspect of my life, which was already complex enough, thank you.

We walked slowly back to the Cair and in the herb garden we came across Susan and Lucy walking just as slowly with Alkonost. The Gamayun shared a long look and a nod, both of them clearly satisfied. They consulted quietly with each other as I took a moment to study my sisters, for it seemed that Peter and I had not been the only ones to consult with a Gamayun about the future. Susan was content, almost serene, which pleased me since yesterday she had seemed unreasonably nervous, and Lucy was Lucy and therefore bursting to tell us everything Alkonost had said.

Alkonost looked up at the sky and saw the clouds gathering thick and heavy out over the Eastern Sea, and she faintly smiled, knowing what it meant. I sensed an air of reluctance about her. Sirin sighed, and sadly said,

"The moment of parting has come."

"But you just got here," Lucy argued. "Can't you stay? Please?"

"Can't you come with us?" countered the Bird of Joy just as eagerly.

"I . . . no," Lucy admitted after a moment of thought. "I don't have wings."

"Then for the now -"

"We must part."

They were back to that melodic habit of finishing each other's sentences. Sirin turned and bowed her head to Lucy, and Alkonost mirrored the motion.

"Aslan's blessings upon you, Valiant Queen."

"Bless as you have been blessed -"

"Love as you have been loved -"

"And balance joy and sorrow in all your life, dear one."

Alkonost faced Susan, inclining her head. "Take back what you do not need, Gentle Queen. The crown may rest upon your brow -"

"But know that you wear it on your heart."

Susan carefully lifted her crown from Alkonost's mass of blond curls and, bending close, she kissed the Gamayun's cheek before settling the golden band of flowers and leaves back on her head. She hesitated for a fraction of a moment, then she leaned over and kissed Sirin as well. With a smile on her face the Lady of Joy stepped over to where I stood by Peter and bowed her head as Sirin softly reminded,

"Remember that curses shall be blessings and sins shall be virtues, Just King."

I avoided all inquiring looks from my sisters as I reclaimed my crown from Alkonost. I settled it firmly on my brow before making my bows to the two sisters. That left only Peter, and the two prophets faced him in turn. A sudden gust of wind swept through the garden from the gathering thunder heads, stirring the trees and flowers.

Sirin spoke first. "High King, take back the weight of the world."

"At times this crown will weigh so much you will scarce be able to raise your head -"

"But raise it you must, for you have been set above all kings -"

"Save one. Do not forget you are not alone."

"There are others that will share this burden with you."

Peter bowed deeply in return as he relieved Sirin of his golden crown.

I stood beside Peter and he laid his hand on my shoulder. Susan drew close to Peter's side and at Lucy's touch I took her hand and held it in mine. The Gamayun looked upon us with approval. Sirin started the rapid exchange that advanced so seamlessly that it sounded like one person speaking.

"You stand before us united in faith -"

"And family."

"Continue as you are -"

"Grow -"

"Learn -"

"Love," they finished together, their voices blending in melody. They exchanged a look, one happy, the other grieved, and then Sirin continued:

"And Narnia will grow with you."

"This sphere -"

"This world -"

"This land -"

"Your hearts -"

"Are the seat of Aslan's grace."

"Narnia stands as the center -"

"Of the universe. And you Four -"

"_Are_ Narnia."

"You are held to be blessed -"

"By the Divine. You have felt Aslan's kiss -"

"You have received His wisdom -"

"His trust -"

"And His faith. His father -"

"The Mighty Emperor Beyond -"

"Over Sea has seen his beloved Son's work -"

"And He has smiled at the pleasure -"

"And beauty -"

"And love if it."

"Remain true to Aslan -"

"Narnia -"

"_Revinim _-"

"Each other -"

"And yourselves. Once a king or queen in Narnia -"

"Always a king or queen. That is a promise -"

"That will never be broken," the two ladies finished in chorus.

I listened in growing awe, trying to absorb this torrent of information and wisdom. A thousand questions rose up in my mind but I did not voice a one of them. I knew, somehow, that they were for me to answer, not the Gamayun. Peter's grip tightened on my shoulder. A quick glance at his face told me he wasn't anxious, but thrilled at their words. I pulled Lucy in a little closer and squeezed her hand. I could see she was smiling. Next to Peter, Susan made the faintest sound of wonder, a small, breathless, _"Oh!"_

The winds kicked up again, sending hair and skirts and feathers flying every which way. I could smell the coming rain on the wind and the great clouds started blocking out the sun, casting the morn into twilight.

"Great was the joy at our meeting," chimed Alkonost.

"Greater is the sorrow at our departure," wept Sirin. "But there is no great sorrow -"

"Without a promise of joy. It grieves us to leave you and Narnia -"

"But remember our words and we will always be with you."

"Time -"

"Distance -"

"Space -"

"Life -"

"Death -"

"Are no barriers."

"We shall meet again, O -"

"Kings and queens. Until that time -"

"The blessings of the Gamayun upon you -"

"And all that you accomplish."

They spread their wings and bowed deeply. Bunched together in a little knot, we returned the salute as best we could without untangling ourselves. The two sisters looked skyward, their wings still wide, and they both tensed as if about to launch into the air. Eyes as gray as the clouds above waited for the right moment, and then Alkonost cried, "Now!"

A golden glow like sunshine suddenly radiated from Alkonost, engulfing both of them. My eyes were opened beyond sight for a moment, just as they had been when I ate the apple from the Tree of Protection. I had the swiftest vision of towering angelic forms, like winged beings of light standing before us, brilliant and beautiful and wise beyond measure.

Then they were gone. I looked up and saw a gap in the clouds, catching the briefest glimpse of blue sky. For a fleeting span we were bathed in that golden warmth, that blessing, and then the shaft of sunlight vanished as the clouds swept over the opening to the sky. Thunder roared and a heavy, pelting rain began to fall, drenching us in moments and splashing us with mud. We just stood there in the garden, close, touching, in contact with each other and with the land we loved. We stared up at the stormy sky, our tears mingling with Sirin's.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

We missed breakfast and all our lessons entirely. We returned to Cair Paravel filthy from head to toe because we had stopped to splash in the mud. A strange, happy giddiness seemed to have filled each of us and a mud puddle the size of a bed had been too tempting for Susan to resist. She'd splashed Peter and started a fight that left us splattered and grubby and glowing with pleasure. The ladies-in-waiting were horrified, our Faun valets were scandalized, and it took so long for them to get us clean to their satisfaction that when we finally sat down together, it was to eat lunch.

We watched the storm die down through the open doors of the sitting room that joined Lucy's and Susan's rooms. This was our usual spot for meals together. We were all fairly quiet, each having a great deal to mull over. I suspected that my siblings were as glad as I was not to have gone through this alone. So much had been said and left unsaid. We would need each other to puzzle out all that had happened . . . and might happen.

After the meal we wandered back towards the Great Hall. The storm was breaking up swiftly now and sunlight streamed down through the stained glass windows of the hall. There was a great deal of activity, the hustle and bustle of a grand and busy and happy palace. We stood atop the stairs watching our subjects with renewed pleasure.

"Well," Peter said, and his voice and expression were filled with such content and pleasure that I had to smile, "I think I'll go find the head gardener."

"Foxgloves?" wondered Susan. "Whatever for?"

"I need to plant some apple trees," the High King replied. He offered his arm to her. "Care to come along, Su?"

She happily looped her arm through his.

"Lu? Ed?"

Lucy shook her head. "I'm going to go get my lute and see if Juliver can give me another music lesson."

Susan smiled broadly, then looked to me. I spotted a familiar, brick-red form moving slowly and deliberately across the hall and I shook my head, declining the invitation.

"No, thank you. I believe I'll go lose a few rounds of chess. I'll see you later." I left them smiling as I hurried down the steps, calling, "Sra! Sra Sysyks!"

The Monitor Dragon raised his head and flicked his tongue. "Majesty?"

"Come, sir! Come beat your king at a game of chess."

The gigantic lizard looked astonished and amused at once, for he knew, just as all Cair Paravel knew, that it was far from my favorite pastime. Thanks to Sirin that was all about to change.

"As you command, King Edmund."

"And Sysyks?"

"Yes, Majesty?"

"You are to have no mercy," I said with a wry grin.

He hissed a laugh. "I shall have none, Sire."

_Fin_


End file.
